


Consenting Celestial Bodies

by unkissed



Series: Coevolution [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Consent, Dorks in Love, Explicit Language, Hand Jobs, Lots of Cock Talk, M/M, So much Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 15:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14311710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkissed/pseuds/unkissed
Summary: My boyfriend has a magic dick, guys... a magic dick.Another installment of the Coevolution Series, in which Albus and Scorpius profess their love for one another... amongst other things.





	Consenting Celestial Bodies

**Author's Note:**

> Spot the Star Wars: TFA quote!
> 
> Gratitude and eggplant emojis go out to my bestie. 
> 
> Thank you to Silkoversteel for constructive criticism and for tidying up this messy thing.

 

**Coevolution: "Consenting Celestial Bodies"**

 

Scorpius’ eyes are the same lucent blue stars I saw that first night at Hogwarts. Only now, I know that his eyes reflect my own adoration. I wonder if he has always looked at me this way. And then I remember. I’m the Polaris of his night sky. He told me so, long before he ever kissed me. 

“What are you thinking about?” he murmurs, shifting closer to me on his bed, as we lie on our sides like mirror images.

“I’m thinking about stars,” I reply cryptically, with a wistful sigh. I know he’ll want to coax a less vague answer from me. I rather like to be coaxed.

“Celebrities or astronomy?” he asks. A very slight furrow forms between his brows. Is it cliché to say he’s cute when he’s jealous?

“A pair of celestial bodies,” I say, moving my hand from its resting place on his pillow to brush aside the fringe of his hair.

He quirks a brow and flashes a wry grin. “If you expect me to guess which ones, I need a good hint.”

I reply with a rhetorical question and a wry grin of my own. “Did you invite me to your bed to play twenty questions, or…?”

Scorpius’ bare foot slides over mine. I’ve shared his bed so often that I don’t even flinch anymore when his cold feet seek out mine for warmth. He’s now close enough that his eyes are a blur to me in the dim wand light.

His whisper is a hot ghost against my mouth, and I can almost taste the mint of his toothpaste. “If you’d quit being such a bloody enigma and just tell me you’re thinking about snogging the fuck out of me, we wouldn’t have to play twenty questions.” He adds a soft giggle at the end that assures me he’s not mad about it.

“If you’re such a bloody good legilimens, why bother asking me what I’m thinking?” I reply, and then tease his lips with a feather light kiss, catching that first real taste of mint and of Scorpius. I astonish myself with my restraint – I don’t know how I’m not swallowing him whole right now.

He purrs, low and dirty in that sultry voice he reserves just for me – the one that makes me shiver and sweat and think very bad thoughts. “Because I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m thinking about how badly I wanted to kiss you that night,” I admit coyly, hoping the quiver in my breath doesn’t betray my anxiousness and my embarrassment, “the night you pulled me out of bed on my birthday to show me Polaris.”

It has become a yearly tradition. On the eve of my birthday, we sneak out of the castle to gaze up at the stars in search of the brightest one in the sky.

“Last year? Before it rained and we had to run back in?” he asks.

“No. I mean, yeah, I wanted to kiss you then also. But I was talking about, erm… the first time.” I bite the corner of my bottom lip. I know I can tell Scorpius anything, but this feels like I’m revealing an old, dirty secret. And that’s because it kind of _is_ an old, dirty secret.

Scorpius is quietly aghast. “When we were _thirteen_? Oh my gods, I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

I bury half my face into the pillow. I should’ve kept on playing it cool, should’ve kept being enigmatic. My cheek feels hot when Scorpius’ lips press against it.

“Awh, that’s so sweet, though,” he coos, “Don’t be embarrassed.”

His words just make me feel even more embarrassed. I’ll never stop being that lovesick fool who’s kind of obsessed with his best friend. I groan into the pillow, “I’m such a dork. I really shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said it.”

Scorpius wraps himself around me, trying to keep me from retreating all the way into my shell. He nuzzles his nose into what little of my face isn’t pressed into the pillow. “Albie, stop,” he whines, “You’re not a dork. Really. If you’d look at me, you’d see that _I’m_ the dork here. I have a big, stupid smile on my face.”

I peek one eye out of the pillow, just to make sure, but I’m still too mortified to show my face completely. Sure enough, he’s got that sunshine smile, and cheeks as pink as mine. His smile has always made me warm inside, ever since the first grin he blessed me with when we were eleven.

Scorpius mumbles, his mouth precariously close to mine, “Did you feel the same way about me then as you do now?”

“Erm…” I don’t want to lie. I also can’t bring myself to admit how far back my feelings go.

When I don’t answer, Scorpius does in my stead. “Did you, Albie? Because _I_ did. I just didn’t understand it the way I do now.”

My chest aches with the heaviness of this revelation. Did Scorpius really fancy me while I was hopelessly pining for him, thinking it was never going to happen? “Seriously?” I ask breathlessly.

“From the moment I met you, if we’re being honest,” he says meekly, and now it’s his turn to be coy.

I can hardly speak. That tight feeling in my chest rises all the way up into my throat. I turn to face him properly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… When I met you, I felt _something_. I knew that what I felt for you was different from what I felt for my other friends. But I was completely incapable of comprehending what it was. And you,” he reaches for me, cupping my cheek, “you weren’t stupid like me. You knew – _really_ knew. You’re brave and you’re strong and you’ve never been afraid to be yourself.”

I’m rendered completely speechless. The frog stuck in my throat refuses to dislodge as I’m overwhelmed with too many emotions - feelings that I can’t deal with all at once, and _oh gods no please don’t fucking cry Albus Potter, you supreme wanker._

Scorpius’ thumb brushes the errant tear that manages to escape despite my effort to keep from falling apart.

“You weren’t afraid then. So don’t be afraid, now, Albie. Because I feel it too,” he whispers.

 _Fuck me, I’m falling apart_. I’m going to pieces in Scorpius’ arms, and it is the safest place I could be. The heaviness in my chest releases in one shuddering exhalation, followed by a whisper – a secret that liberates me from years of guilt and shame.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you, Scor.”

When I say it, I’m not embarrassed or ashamed. My heart is lighter than it has been in ages. I no longer feel like I’m a perv with a crush on my hot best friend. I’m _in love_ with my best friend, and it doesn’t hurt anymore.

“I love you too... Longer than I even knew,” he says. 

I’m so fucking happy that a giggle escapes me. And because we find each other’s laughter to be contagious, Scorpius giggles too, and his joy reaches all the way up to his blue eyes.

Soon, his mouth is on mine – the flavor of his toothpaste is now unmistakable, the taste of his lips, indelibly on my tongue. For the first time, his tongue slips against my own, experimentally, softly. And it is enough to make my heart race.

I feel him shudder against me. His palm is moist and warm against my still-blushing cheek. His breath quivers, short and erratic. “You taste so good,” he whispers rapturously, before delving once more into my mouth to partake of me fully.

I can’t remain a passive bystander as we launch into our first, real, proper kiss of the French variety. I sweep my tongue against his, marveling at the way a kiss can inspire a full-body reaction. His leg hooks over my hip, bringing us into such close alignment that I can feel his growing excitement through his pajamas. I’m sure he feels mine.

His hand is under my shirt, hitching up the hem, searching for my heart. His tongue is in my mouth, maybe searching for my tonsils – I don’t know, I don’t care, and I don’t want him to stop. Nor do I want him to stop when he guides me onto my back and wedges himself between my bent legs. The mattress creaks loudly beneath us with the shift in weight.

  

Bryce coughs from his bed, reminding us that we share this room with other boys who won’t thank us if the silencing charm wears off the curtains of Scorpius’ bed. I hesitate. Scorpius hesitates. We freeze for a quiet moment of alarm.

“Can you, erm, hear us, B?” Scorpius asks.

“Don’t you trust my silencing charms?” I joke, whispering all the same.

Scorpius shrugs and mutters, “Charms were never your strong point.” He’s just being honest, and I’ve never minded that about him.

“Hey. Bryce Zabini,” he says, louder this time, really testing the strength of my silencing charms, “I know how much you hate gay stuff. So I’m going to snog Albus blind in the bed next to yours. Cool?” When Bryce doesn’t answer, Scorpius gives a small nod. “Cool.”

Then he gives me a questioning look. “Cool?” He doesn’t have to ask for my further consent. He already knows he has it. But it’s always nice to ask.

“Very,” I drawl, folding my arms around the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

He purrs something unintelligible and sexy against my mouth, echoing my sentiments.

My lips part for him and his tongue finds mine again, as easily as if we’ve been kissing like this our whole lives. Even when we slip up, it’s still not awkward – not when our teeth accidentally clink, not when our noses bump just a little too hard, not even when my tongue accidentally flicks his nostril.

It’s all good. Because it’s new to both of us, and all of our mistakes are shared with a giggle.

 

~//~

  

Another night brings me to Scorpius’ bed. I let him place the silencing charms this time. He’s much better at making them last.

His mouth finds mine, our hips connect, and his fingers find the groove of my spine beneath my tee shirt.

I feel his hardness again, casually pressing against the inside of my thigh, but only by virtue of it being _there_ and being so _big_ ( _oh my gods it’s so fucking big)_ , and not because he’s purposefully rubbing off on me.

A tension-alleviating chuckle escapes me when I bring up what can’t be ignored anymore – what we’d been ignoring for a week now.

“What’s going on down there, Scor?” I ask, the tone of my voice low and melodic.

 _I’m_ supposed to be the one idiotically in love with my best friend, popping an erection for him in bed, fruitlessly trying to hide it. And now _Scorpius,_ sweet and innocent Scorpius, is in love with _me_ , and popping an erection for _me_ every time our bedtime snogging gets a little hot and heavy. How is this real, and not one of my myriad bedtime fantasies?

“I don’t know, Albie; what’s going on down here?” Scorpius repeats the question meekly, giggling a bit nervously. He’s naïve, but not _that_ naïve. “Is this still, erm… cool?” he asks, repositioning only slightly, still with his leg hooked over mine.

“Yeah. It’s cool,” I reply, deep in my throat.

“I can feel you too, you know. I’m not the only dork here.” Scorpius points out with a well-aimed shift of his hips grinding against mine.

Even though his movement is slight, I feel it like it’s a deftly plied stroke. Nobody has ever touched me there. And, _oh my gods_ , it makes such a difference when it’s not my own hand on my dick, even when it’s just another part of somebody else’s body.

When he does it again, a short, quick, breath escapes me. I bite my lip to stifle the sound, but it’s too late for that.

“Alright?” Scorpius asks, laughing at my complete lack of chill.

“Still cool,” I assure him, voice cracking, blushing so hard I feel the heat all the way up to the tips of my ears.

“I, erm…,” Scorpius hesitates, and my heart stops. “I don’t…” His words become stilted. He heaves a soft, shuddering breath, lost for words for once. Meekly, he admits, “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

He sounds so lost and so sweet, I just have to wrap my arms around him tighter and hug him close.

“Awh, it’s okay,” I assure him, “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing either. Let’s just keep doing stuff until it, erm… doesn’t feel cool anymore, and then we can stop.”

Scorpius pulls back so that our eyes meet properly. “Promise you’ll tell me? If it stops being cool?”

His plea seems graver and more desperate than I think it needs to be, and it’s confusing me. Why would it stop being cool? And why wouldn’t I tell him so if it did? We’ve always been able to tell each other anything… well, almost anything.

“Of course,” I insist, “You too, yeah? You can tell me to stop at any point. I won’t be sore about it.”

Scorpius sighs. His brows knit together. “Oh gods, Albie, I feel like I don’t ever want to stop, and that scares me. I mean, I’ll stop – _of course_ I’ll stop. But it’s the _wanting_ that scares me.”

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” I admit to him, finding the confidence to say so because he needs to hear it. “It’s totally okay to want. And we can take things slow. If you’re scared, I’ll be brave for you… I love you, Scor.”

He smiles so brightly that it makes me melt inside. I know I’ll never get tired of making him smile like this, and I hope I’ll always be privileged to do it.

He kisses me with renewed confidence and fervor. I’m soft in his mouth and hard in my pajama pants and I’m not even embarrassed about it anymore.

Scorpius notices. How could he not? He releases a long, shuddering, rapturous exhale. “… _Fucking_ hell, your _dick_ , Albus… It’s… oh my gods, it’s… _your dick_.”

Maybe if I had a sense of modesty around Scorpius, I would be more worried about what he’s trying to say about my dick. But the physical barriers between us as friends were flimsy at best, and now that we’re more than friends, those barriers are a mere forgotten notion.

Yeah, that’s my dick, tenting my thin, cotton pajamas, poking at Scorpius’ lap. And, yeah, that’s Scorpius’ dick, barely contained in his own pajamas, nestling into the furrow of my inner thigh. What should we do about it?

“Do you want to touch it?” I hazard to ask, trying on seduction for size, with my bottom lip caught between my teeth, giving him what I hope is a sultry look in my eyes. Realistically, I probably look like I’m in pain.

But, whatever it is that I look like, it works. Scorpius breathes sibilantly, hot against my mouth, “Yes…?” as if it shouldn’t even have been a question – his need should’ve been evident.

He rolls to his side, freeing the twin erections that had been caught between us. He rests his elbow on the pillow and props his head on his hand, affording him a decent view of me. I feel so vulnerable and on display, but because it’s Scorpius, that feeling excites me like nothing else.

To be wanted is brilliant, and to be wanted by _Scorpius,_ is, well… to be coveted by a fallen angel tasting sin for the first time. No exaggeration.

I gaze up at him, too desperate for his touch to care that I look eager. He rests a hand on my gently heaving chest. Through my tee shirt, I can feel that his palm is hot, and damp with sweat. Part of me wants him, skin to skin on my body, to feel him sweating against me unencumbered by clothes. And part of me knows it is already too much. Being naked would just push me over the edge sooner than we’d both like.

His eyes follow the path of his hand. My own attention flits between him watching me nervously and him touching me tentatively. He nears the damp protrusion in my pants that is the leaking head of my cock.

His hand comes away from my body and I inwardly whimper. No, that wasn’t inward. I think I actually whimpered out loud, because Scorpius laughs softly and flashes me a small, apologetic smile.

Navigating somebody else’s dick must be awkward, especially when it’s trapped inside clothing. It appears that Scorpius doesn’t know how to approach it. Ultimately, he lightly rests his palm on the approximation of the base, over my pajamas. The pressure of his hand falls more heavily along the shape of my shaft, moving towards the head, deliciously slow. My eyes involuntarily flutter closed.

This is what it feels like to be touched by divinity.

The pressure of his exploratory fingers increases as his intentions become more defined - the slide of his hand, becoming a stroke, becoming a purposeful tug with foreskin and fabric and all, and _oh my fucking gods_. Is this a handjob? Can it be considered a handjob if it’s through the pants? Scorpius and I will probably have a deeply philosophical discussion about this tomorrow, likely moderated by Lloyd who touts himself as being well versed in the intricacies of foreplay.

Whatever it is, it’s _so fucking good_.

“Is it really?” Scorpius asks.

Oops. I said that out loud again, didn’t I?

“Fuck, yeah…,” I breathe out, with an intonation that conveys its obviousness.

He leans close and takes that breath right out of my mouth, kissing me with possession I had no idea he was capable of, and no idea I wanted until now.

“Please touch me,” he whimpers, unabashed in his desperation, and I feel guilty that he had to ask me to reciprocate – I probably should’ve been doing it already.

We’re so close together that it’s difficult to maneuver my arm around his to find his erection. And because I’m flat on my back and he’s lying on his side, my wrist has to do uncomfortable things to get a handle on his cock. But when I finally do, I’m rewarded for my efforts with the heft of Scorpius’ huge prick. My ministrations over his pajamas inadvertently push the front opening over his cockhead, freeing his barely contained dick entirely.

_Wow… Just… WOW._

I take a moment to fanboy over Scorpius Malfoy’s massive cock.

I’ve seen his dick before. Mind you, it was only a glimpse in the shower, and he wasn’t even hard. It was impressive then. But this? This is the kind of dick that all cock-loving boys dream of. It’s thick, it’s long, and it’s elegant. Yes, _elegant_ , with no weird curves in the shaft, not that there’s anything wrong with that – admittedly, mine has a slight leftward curve.

“ _Fuck me_ , where do you hide all of this?” I whisper in astonishment. We both giggle. Scorpius’ giggle is much more embarrassed.

“It’s magic,” he jokes.

My boyfriend has a magic dick, guys… a _magic dick_.

Because his cock’s out, I might as well take mine out too. I push down the elastic band of my pajama pants and let my erection spring forth. Literally. It pops up like a flag and waves, startling a soft chuckle out of Scorpius.

“Well, _hello_ ,” he greets my dick, talking to it smoothly like it’s a hot guy that just sauntered into the room.

_Come here often?_

_…Not yet._

His long, thin fingers curl around my arousal, and I gasp, involuntarily, softly. I laugh uncomfortably at my own hypersensitivity. Scorpius apologizes needlessly. His palm is sweaty like I knew it would be, and that should feel gross, but it’s _so fucking good_.

My breath hitches again when he slowly pulls upward, gliding along the shaft – skin on skin at last, and it really is too much. On another stroke, he applies more pressure, taking my foreskin with it, sliding it over my cockhead, then back down again with a slight twist, and _Merlin be damned_ … how does he know exactly how I like it?

Is it intuition? Does he like to masturbate this way? Is it just the way all boys like it? Bloody hell, has he ever peeked into my shower stall and secretly watched me wank off, and thus know my preferred technique? Okay, that last one is pure wank-bank fantasy, but still…

If I focus too much on the intense pleasure and the tightness quickly building up in my balls, I’ll come with the next perfect, skillful stroke. So I instead focus on him… as if that would really keep my orgasm at bay.

I marvel at how different it feels to touch him this way – how deeply intimate it feels beyond the sensation of my tongue inside his mouth, how unfamiliar and new it is even though I’ve had so much practice stroking a dick. My usual stride needs to be wider in order to traverse from the base of his cock to the head. So even if the motion is essentially the same, it's more exaggerated than when I'm doing it myself.

Even the heft of his cock is different. I don't know if it's just the fact that I'm holding a dick that is not my own that makes it feel heavier or if it really is just that much more substantial... Oh who am I kidding? It's massive and I'm not even jealous because it's _amazing_. 

The suppleness of his foreskin, the turgidity of his shaft, the slickness of his weeping cockhead, the desperate shade of lustful pink blushing through, and the soft, little blissful sounds that I manage to pull from his reddened lips – it’s so fucking beautiful, and so fucking _Scorpius_ , that I can’t hold on any longer.

I close my eyes. I feel the desperate pressure from within my tight balls, I feel the anxious desire seeping through Scorpius’ fingers, I taste his kiss like a sinful indulgence on my tongue, and I come… so… fucking… _hard._  

I can’t even be arsed to care that I’ve probably just splattered the headboard of Scorpius’ bed with my seed, because he’s following close behind me.

I’m only mildly startled when I feel his cock spasm in my tight fist – once, twice, and then again, each time issuing a stream of thick, hot, come. The last few spasms force a slow ooze of semen over my fingers, and it doesn’t repulse me the way my own come sometimes does. I want to savor Scorpius’ essence – the feel of it spilling like molten desire, the carnal smell of it. _Fuck_ , I want to taste it, but I’m afraid it’ll freak him out if I start licking his come off my fingers.

But then he releases my spent prick, panting softly, eyes still heavily lidded, smiling like the cat that might have eaten the caged canary, and he brings his thumb to his mouth. He closes his lips around it and moans quietly and I just fucking _die_.

“So fucking good,” he whispers breathily.

It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed, and I doubt anything will ever unseat it as the new reigning top of my wank bank list.

Of course, I’m going to taste him now.

There is a bead of come congealing on the top of my hand. I lick it off like that same cat that ate the canary, but who gives zero fucks about it and blatantly cleans its kill off its paws.

He tastes briny and bitter. It shouldn’t taste so good. But it does, because it’s Scorpius.

We kiss lazily, ignoring the glorious mess that we’ve made, savoring the fuzzy bliss of afterglow, whispering our love until the inescapable pull of post-orgasmic sleep takes us.

 

~//~

 

I put out a general query at the breakfast table. “Does it count as a handjob if it’s over clothes?”

Lloyd is quick to answer around a mouthful of toast. “No. If it’s over clothes, it’s dry fucking.”

Scorpius reaches for the pitcher of pumpkin juice and counters logically, “But if there’s a only a hand and no penetration involved, how is that considered fucking?”

Alexa replies with a superior sharpness to her voice, “It’s heavy petting, actually. A hand over the clothes is heavy petting.”

Lloyd snorts, “Heavy petting? That sounds like something people did in the old days. Like necking.”

Bryce lets his fork drop on his plate of eggs with a loud clatter and frustratedly demands, “Oh my gods, stop. Just… stop. I’m trying to eat here. Why are you talking about this?” Then he flashes an accusatory glare at Scorpius and me. “Did you two…? In our room last night? While we were THERE?”

I feign an indignant huff. “No! Of course not.”

Scorpius denies it just as vehemently. “We’d never. That’s so gross.”

 

Later in the corridor on the way to potions, Scorpius leans in to whisper, “What’s dry fucking?”

I raise my brow sharply and smirk. “Exactly what it sounds like, Scor.”

Scorpius cringes. “It sounds painful!”

I chuckle at how utterly adorable and naïve he is.

 

After lunch, we have a bit of time before our next class. Instead of taking some air in the courtyard with our friends as we usually do, I hook my arm around his elbow and make a sharp detour into another corridor.

“You’re doing alright in Charms, yeah? You can stand to be a little late.” I start rationalizing before I even let him in on my plan.

He follows me all the same. “I’m doing brilliantly, yes. But where are we going?”

“Erm…,” I search the corridor for a door that I vaguely remember exists, though I’m not entirely sure. I have faint memories of visiting the room while serving detention. “Aha! Here we are.”

A tarnished metal plate bears the word _STORAGE_. A simple _alohomora_ unlocks the door – nothing inside really needs to be protected by stronger spells. It’s a small storage room lit by a single gas lamp, housing old textbooks and rolled-up star maps.

In third year, Professor Ogilvie made me dust the shelves without use of magic as punishment for breaking something – I can’t remember what. Judging from the dust that’s coating every surface, he hasn’t tasked anyone else with cleaning this closet since.

Once we’ve slipped through unnoticed, I use a spell to lock the door from the inside and drop my bag to the floor, sending up a plume of dust.

Scorpius is giving me a highly skeptical look. He deadpans, “Real romantic, Al.”

I tease him with my words and my fingers tangling into the back of his hair. “Would you rather wait until the very end of the day to find out what dry fucking is?”

Scorpius still looks apprehensive. “Well, no, but… Are you, erm, going to _show_ me? Because I don’t know if I’m cool with that.”

Sudden realization hits me hard and I stutter, feeling mortified, “Oh. _Oh._ Oh gosh. I’m sorry.” I take a step back from him and admonish myself for being such a pervert. “Wow, erm… yeah, that was really creepy of me – forcing you into a closet with no explanation, intending to erm… do stuff to you. I’m sorry. That was weird.”

Navigating consent with my best friend is still really awkward for me.

Scorpius steps into my personal space and takes my hands, lacing our fingers together. “Albie. Relax. You know me, and nine times out of ten, I’m down for blindly following you into mischief. It’s just… this time I feel way out of the loop, and I want to be fully in on the scheme, yeah?”

I nod, still embarrassed and unable to look him in the eye. “If, erm, you want to know what _that_ is…”

“Dry fucking?” he asks for clarification.

“Yeah, that. If you want to know what it is, I can just tell you,” I offer timidly, “We don’t have to, erm… do it. Now, I mean. We don’t have to do it now. If you want, in future, maybe we--”

“Maybe just tell me, and we’ll see.” Scorpius giggles, alleviating my embarrassment only slightly.

I start out explaining disjointedly. “There’s no penetration involved, it’s just, erm…”

Scorpius is frustrated with my tiptoeing around the subject and nudges me, not unkindly. “Spit it out, Potter. You’ve never held back with me before, so don’t hold back now.”

I huff, just as frustrated at myself for being so ridiculous, and find my voice again. “It’s fucking with your clothes on. No penetration. Just a lot of rubbing and moving like you’re having sex.”

Scorpius opens his mouth silently before he speaks. “Oh, is that all it is? I was imagining that it was literally dry sex. Like, putting it in without lube or whatever. Because you said it was exactly what it sounds like, and that’s what it sounded like.”

“No. Oh gods, _no_. _Ouch._ Definitely not that. Sorry I completely misrepresented it.”

The door handle suddenly turns from the outside, and then jiggles when it doesn’t open. Scorpius and I freeze. We hear the caretaker grumbling with annoyance on the other side of the door.

“And that’s our lesson for the day. Class dismissed,” he jokes.

“Let’s get out of this dustbin, yeah?”

We exit the storage closet, dusting off our clothes, and don’t even acknowledge the curious glare from the caretaker. We act like this is completely normal, and go on our merry way.

We fall into our seats in Charms class just in time. A few minutes into the lecture, Scorpius slips me a note on a folded corner of ripped parchment.

_Lesson 1: D** F*****g, complete_

_Practical demonstration, TBA_

_Homework: Locate appropriate venue for practical demo_

_Due Date: Tonight_

  

I choke down my giggle, but I can’t refrain from blushing hard. He flashes me a devious grin, and I mirror it with my own.

Because it has always been like this – Scorpius and Albus, plotting mischief together. I must not forget that he’s not just an idle accomplice – he’s my partner in crime. And he loves me. 

**Author's Note:**

> "Don't be afraid... I feel it too."


End file.
